Of Long-Denied Emotions
by Worlds Unreal
Summary: Something inside Bruce screamed. Something deep and hidden away wanted Dick to stay. Something so deep he never even realized it himself. And that silent voice wanted so desperately. Wanted the light Dick brings with him to never leave. SLASH Bruce/Dick.
1. Of Storms and Warmth

**Author's note**: Hi there! For an introduction I would like to say that this fic. will be quite long. Not sure how long, but it will be long. I will try to fit the plot into the current DCU without changing anything too important. So, this will not be set in an alternate universe. I will also try to make the characters as accurate as possible, but forgive me when I get carried away sometimes!

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**Chapter One**

**Of Storms and Warmth**

It was one of those nights again. Lightning flashed the darkness of Gotham with white for a split second before the loud crack of thunder shook the entire building. Rain poured in heavy torrents as wind howled into the abyss of the night. They hadn't even bothered going on patrol. The streets of Gotham, usually teeming with good-for-nothing crooks, were empty. The Gotham police force had nothing to report, and there was nothing Batman and his boy wonder could do. But to be very honest, they would much rather stay in the warm comfort of the Wayne Manor than to go patrolling in such conditions.

Bruce was settled for bed, and for once in a very long time he was allowed to get some proper sleep. But he couldn't. Years of spending his nights fighting crime prevented him from truly relaxing. He was constantly agitated, even when he assured himself there was nothing he could do that night. The only other time Bruce was allowed the luxury of proper sleep was when he first took Dick in half a year ago. Of course, he had still spent countless hours giving the boy his training and following leads that could lead them to Zucco….. But, as he thought back now, those were the times he had been able to sleep peacefully. Bruce used to think it was the joy of saving yet another lost soul. That by giving this boy another chance of joy in life, Bruce was also finally finding some delayed closure for the deaths of his parents. Alfred also thought so.

"It is exhilarating to see you smile so genuinely again, Master Bruce. It is high time you accepted." Alfred said when they came back after successfully capturing Zucco. Dick was all smiles and Bruce, well… Bruce gave Dick a pat on the back and gave him a smile of approval. Bruce still recalls the way Dick's entire being lit up. That was also the first time Bruce saw Dick smile so brilliantly after the incident in the circus. And, according to Alfred, that was the first time he saw Bruce truly content with life in a very, very long time. Possibly ever since the terrible incident in the darkened alley behind the theatre all those years ago.

Later that same night young Dick told Bruce with such determination that he still wanted to remain by his side as Robin. Fighting off the world's darkness to give everyone that deserves it a chance for the light. Bruce's first thought was to decline. The path he had chosen was filled with the blackness of his heart, as dark and black as the cowl he wears. He would never, ever, allow the innocent young boy to share his terrible burden. He told Dick that. Dick looked almost pained.

"But Bruce, it's not a burden, it's liberation!" Dick's blue eyes were wide in the gloom of Wayne Manor. Bruce remained silent for a while, thinking about that night he swore above his parents' grave that he would fight against the force of everything evil for the rest of his life. The oath came from a mind plagued with pain and despair. Bruce could not imagine the bright and innocent Dick treading through the same path he is, even after everything that had happened.

"Dick, I care for you. The life I have chosen for myself is not a happy one. Go to school, graduate, find a woman special to you and marry her… Have a real life, Dick. Not one spent in the darkness of Gotham's streets." Something inside Bruce screamed. Something deep and hidden away wanted Dick to stay. Something so deep he never even realized it himself. And that silent voice wanted so desperately. Wanted the light Dick brings with him to never leave.

"Then let's take the darkness out of all this, Bruce! Let's fight for justice and good, not revenge." Dick's blue eyes were glimmering with the strength of conviction, and Bruce could not help staring into them. For a moment the dark knight of Gotham, the man who is always three steps ahead of everyone and anyone, was rendered speechless by those blue depths of Dick's eyes.

By Dick's beautiful innocence.

After a pause, a smile lit up Dick's face and he added "Our parents will be proud of us, I'm sure of that."

With that, Bruce could no longer ignore the feelings he denied and he enveloped the young boy in a tight embrace. He couldn't have stopped himself even if he meant to. For the first time in a very long time, he allowed himself to be happy. Allowed the light-hearted tingling of joy to flood into his heart and chase away all the pain. Allowed himself to envision a bright future together with Dick alongside him to brighten his days. Dick hugged Bruce back just as tightly. And in that instant they both knew that a silent oath has been said. An oath that said that they will always look out for one another at the brightest of days and darkest of nights.

"Yes, Robin, they will be very proud" Bruce whispered, barely audible. The young boy sighed happily before the night's activities finally took a toll on his young body and he fell asleep, content and happy, in Bruce's arms. Bruce held him like that for a while and admired the young boy's courage. Bruce figured that Dick would be tired; he was 11 years old and had fought with all the fire he could muster earlier that night. Dick was certainly worthy to be called the boy _wonder_. Bruce had carried him off to bed, and told Alfred not to wake him up the next morning. Alfred complied, but not without telling Bruce that he too should probably sleep a well-earned rest. Bruce did. And that was the night he slept peacefully, with dreams filled with Dick's brilliant, wonderful smile. A smile mirroring the way Bruce himself used to smile as a boy before everything turned so very bad.

But this night was different. Bruce was staring, completely awake, at his ceiling. He thought back to that night, about how Alfred looked so satisfied, about how Dick was cuddled up in his arms, about the way Dick's smile never failed to chase all the pain in his being away. Just then, another bolt of lightning flashed menacingly outside his room. Bruce couldn't help being reminded of the night it all happened. The way his father tried his best to protect his family, and failed. Failed so terribly. Bruce felt a familiar twinge of pain twist in his chest, and sighed. After Dick came to the Manor, every time Bruce thought of his parents he would also come to think about the look on Dick's face when the trapeze snapped. The raw horror when his parents fell. Fell farther and farther away from the safety of the platform, all the way to the hard and unforgiving ground. This time was no exception, and another twinge made Bruce shut his eyes tightly in an attempt to dissolve the image. Suddenly, the door to his bedroom opened. Distracted as Bruce was by his thoughts, he didn't hear the footsteps that came before the small whisper of a voice.

"Bruce," It was Dick. He sounded small and… hesitant. This is bad. The boy wonder never hesitates in his actions. Bruce immediately sits up, thinking there might be trouble.

"Dick, what's wrong? Did the commissioner call?" Bruce looked over to Dick and saw that, at least, he wasn't bleeding or hurt.

"Nothing's wrong, you would have known long before I have if there was." Dick gave a slight smile that quickly disappeared. "Bruce, it's just that." Dick swallowed, trying to find the right words. "It's raining and- you see, Bruce….." Worried now, Bruce approached his ward and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What is it Dick?" Bruce tried to encourage Dick into saying whatever was troubling him. Bruce did not like seeing the usually cheery and sunny boy so uncertain.

"I- I can't sleep." Dick admitted sheepishly, and looked at his hands in embarrassment. Bruce blinked a couple of times in confusion, and kneeled down to look Dick in the eyes. Bruce can now see that Dick's face was tinged pink, and that his cheeks were damp. It finally came to Bruce that Dick had been crying.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Bruce tried, desperately looking for a way to make the sadness in the boy's eyes go away. He hated seeing Dick so distraught. Dick is meant to be happy.

Dick tried to say something, but he couldn't seem to find the right words to say. Another bolt of lightning flashed right beside Bruce's room, and it made Dick jump. His blue eyes were wide, and he started shivering a little.

"Bruce, I-I'm scared." Dick's voiced cracked, obviously trying to hold back tears. Bruce, among all other people, knows that the boy wonder does not cry unless something very terrible happened. Bruce wrapped his arms around the shivering frame in front of him, gently stroking his back reassuringly. Murmuring soothingly until the boy seemed to calm down a little.

"Bruce, can I… can I sleep here tonight?" Dick asked in a tiny voice, sounding so bizarre coming from the otherwise fearless Robin. Before Bruce could say anything, Dick piped in again with a new note of urgency. "My mother used to be there during storms like these. She- she told me she'll always stay. She told me she'll always be there-" The end of the sentence was intruded by a violent sob. Bruce could feel warm wet tears against the back of his neck as more and more sobs wrecked through the boy.

"It's alright Dick. I'm here." Bruce lifted the boy up into his arms and settled him in his bed. The boy immediately curled up into the sheets, trying to make himself as small as possible from the crashing thunder outside. The boy was shivering again and Bruce pressed him tightly against himself, holding his frame tightly. Dick buried his face into Bruce's chest, as his sobs slowly died down. All the while Bruce slowly smoothed the boy's hair and whispered things meant to comfort him. After the boy had calmed down enough, he looked up with his shimmering blue eyes at Bruce. Bruce lifted his thumb up to brush away the wet streaks on his cheek. "It's alright Dick." Bruce said again for the thousandth time that night. Dick's troubled eyes finally cleared and his pink lips curled into the sweetest smile yet- Bruce thought he felt something inside him melt a little.

"Thanks Bruce, you're the best." Dick said in a half-whisper and closed his eyes to drift into long-awaited sleep, still curled up in Bruce's embrace. Bruce said nothing for a while. Watching Dick's chest rise and fall steadily as he dreamt peacefully, his face still pressed into Bruce's chest.

The smile was still ghosting on his lips, the blush still giving his cheeks a pinkish shade. Bruce stroked the boy's dark curls tenderly, his eyes never leaving him. Bruce felt his senses dull slowly as he settled into sleep, strangely at peace with his ward curled up at his chest.

"Thank you Dick, for staying with me."

* * *

**Author's note**: So, what did you think of the first chapter? Please review and tell me what you think, and what you would like to see in the future. I can't continue without knowing what you guys want, now could I? I'll update as soon as I know what to write about. Thanks a lot!

P.s. you can also read this story on archiveofourown in case something happens to this one, same title and username (but without the space) :)


	2. Of Dinners and Uncertainty

**Author's note**: So, I've noticed you guys don't really like to review much :( But thanks anyway for all those who followed, reviewed and faved this story! This chapter will be where the plot really begins. So... enjoy!

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**Chapter Two**

**Of Dinners and Uncertainty**

The next morning was greeted by a reluctant dawn. The sun hid behind a persistent layer of grey clouds and for some reason, the morning birds have failed to awaken. Bruce opened his eyes cautiously to his dim bedroom; instinct telling him that something is amiss. He had this dreading feeling that he had let his guard down too long. Was he drugged? Poison Ivy? As the fuzziness of sleep gradually resided, he recalled that he hadn't even went on patrol last night.

Stirring farther from sleep, he noticed that a soft cheek was pressed into his neck. And that his face was buried in sweet-smelling black curls. Last night's events came back to him all too fast, and he sighed in understanding. Bruce had subconsciously assumed that last night was nothing but a dream. One of those rare beautiful dreams he sometimes had. Dreams that he must always wake up from, and then it would hurt just a little bit more to stare into his lonely room.

But as he felt the whisper of a breath stir the skin underneath his ear and a small lithe form pressed into his chest, he knew that today he wasn't just dreaming.

Remembering how distraught Dick was last night, he pulled his small frame tighter into his. The young boy muttered something sleepily in response but didn't wake. Bruce lifted his hand gingerly to push a stray strand of hair behind Dick's ear, Dick sighed softly at the touch and nuzzled his face into Bruce's neck.

In the solace of his room, Bruce allowed himself a little smile.

When the first of the morning birds finally began their song, Dick stirred and opened his eyes sleepily. For a brief moment, Dick's breath hitched in realization that he was not in his room.

"Good morning, Dick." Bruce said in a low voice that could've qualified as a whisper, hadn't the room been so quiet. Dick moved back a little to stare at Bruce with wide baby-blue eyes, the same color of the small flowers that grow on the outskirts of Gotham. Just that Dick's blue was softer, more radiant. Bruce couldn't help but notice how prettily they were framed by a thick frizz of dark lashes. He quickly pushed that thought to the back of his mind and composed himself.

"How are you feeling?" This made Dick's cheeks flush a little and he quickly averted his eyes away from Bruce.

"I'm alright now." Dick muttered without looking at the older man. Bruce is all too familiar with the trauma Dick is going through, and by personal experience he knows that Dick is far from alright. Dick might appear strong but no one, not even Dick, can keep up pretending for so long. There will be times when the pain becomes too real to ignore, and Bruce has sworn to himself to always be there when Dick needed him. But deciding not to push it, Bruce attempted to give Dick a distraction.

"How about some breakfast? I think Alfred said he wanted to make his special muffins today." Bruce knew how much Dick loved Alfred's muffins, not that anyone would give up a chance to eat them. The initial turmoil in Dick's features softened into a wide grin, the boy was more than willing to be distracted by muffins. The usual, happy and sunny Dick Grayson was back. Seeing a grin light up the boy's features once more, Bruce allowed all his troubles to be forgotten for a brief moment. Just a moment to relish the light that beamed off that grin.

"You bet I do." Dick made a move to get dressed, only to realize his room (and his clothes) was in the other side of the manor. Alfred disapproved of seeing him walk around the manor in pajamas. _It's distasteful and inappropriate, _he would say and Dick was really not in the mood to get an earful of etiquette and manners_. _For a second Dick considered the possibility of climbing out of Bruce's window and then to climb back in through his room's, but that thought was soon interrupted by a knock on the door followed by a polite: "Master Bruce?"

"What is it, Alfred?" Bruce said as he moved his arms away from Dick and sat up. Blinking the remains of sleep from his eyes, Dick went on to stretch luxuriously.

"Master Bruce, I'm afraid that I can't seem to locate young Master Dick." Alfred said through the door, a slight note of worry tainting his heavy English accent.

"Don't worry, Alfred. Dick is here." Bruce's tone was nonchalant as he walked over to the door and opened it. Alfred stole a quick glance at Dick who was still yawning sleepily on Bruce's bed before returning his attention back at the older man standing before him.

"I see, thank you sir." Alfred paused for a professional moment, then turned to face Dick and continued. "Master Dick, would you fancy some breakfast? I have prepared muffins by my great-aunt's homemade recipe." Alfred's voice was neutral and as formal as ever, but Dick could see amusement in his eyes.

"You know I do, Al." Dick grinned at Alfred, who smiled back knowingly.

"Then I must insist that you shower and change before coming down, Master Dick." As if in defeat, Dick sighed and slowly made his way to the door, pouting all the way. Alfred sure knows how to get what he wants, although Dick still thought using muffins as bait is a little unfair. Bruce ruffled Dick's dark hair affectionately on his way out. Dick only huffed a little, but then proceeded to flash him with one of his lopsided smirks.

"I'll see you downstairs, Master Bruce." Alfred retorted. Bruce was going to say something back, but a twinkle in Alfred's eyes made him stumble on his thoughts. It was the same odd twinkle Alfred gave him when he first mentioned taking Dick in as his official ward. He couldn't understand it then, and even more so now. It was a sly, knowing twinkle that made Bruce a little more than uncomfortable. He wasn't used to knowing less than the people around him. Bruce always knew everything of anything. But Alfred's thoughts were an entirely different story.

"Sure, Alfred." Bruce managed to recover a split second afterward, no one would have ever noticed the delay. At least no one but Alfred.

"Come, Master Dick." Alfred made an ushering gesture at Dick, and the young boy followed obediently. Bruce frowned slightly in frustration. Alfred knew something, something he obviously didn't. There was no hope in forcing in out of the old butler, so the only other thing to do is to push it to the back of his mind and wait.

* * *

The day was quite uneventful. Dick went to school, Bruce went to a couple of press conferences and Alfred stayed at the manor to do whatever he usually does. Gotham city was too quiet, and Bruce wondered if the big-time crooks were planning something major. Or worse, the hard-core psychopaths of Gotham were contemplating the city's termination. But then again, Bruce is known to be quite paranoid; or _cautious _as he likes to call it himself_. _Bruce was skimming over some files when his phone rang. Even before he picked it up, Bruce knew it was Alfred. The only people who had Bruce's private phone number were Alfred, Dick and Fox. Judging by the time, Dick would be at school and Fox would be in a real-estate conference, which leaves only Alfred.

"Master Bruce, I do hope I am not interrupting anything?" Alfred's voice came through the phone's speakers.

"Not at all. What is it?"

"As you are most likely aware, there seems to be no apparent criminal activity around Gotham as of late. At least nothing the local police force can handle without needing the assistance of the dynamic duo." Alfred could not have sounded anymore diplomatic than he is now. "Therefore, may I be so bold to state that it would be much appreciated if you could spare some time to join us for dinner tonight? I have taken the liberty to prepare a proper dinner for both you and Master Dick."

"Of course, Alfred. I would love to. I think I can even make it back before six." Bruce was a little surprised by this. Alfred doesn't call him at work every other day to invite him for dinner. Bruce is quite certain there isn't any special occasion. And it isn't like Alfred to act on whims.

"What's the occasion?" Bruce asked with a trained tone. The words didn't betray Bruce's burning curiosity, but still had the intensity to push anyone for an answer. But Alfred knew Bruce all too well.

"My apologies, sir, but I believe that one does not need a specific occasion to enjoy a decent family dinner. Besides, everyone needs a chance to recompose oneself every once in a while." Alfred was unrelenting when he insisted and Bruce saw no reason to argue.

"Alright, I'll be there."

"Very good. Master Dick will be more than pleased to know that you can join him for dinner tonight. Good day, Master Bruce."

"Thank you, Alfred" Bruce narrowed his eyes in thought. It's true that Bruce didn't join his young ward for dinner very often in the past six months, but Dick told him that spending time with him as Robin is way more fun anyway. And from what Alfred has been telling him, it seems that Dick never really bothers to eat _decent _dinners. Most of the time, Dick will settle for a couple of sandwiches before returning to whatever he was doing earlier. Bruce suddenly wonders if Alfred thinks that he is neglecting Dick. Bruce sighed. He may be an expert at a dozen foreign languages, another dozen of martial arts, criminology and everything else he would ever need to fight crime. But he was at a complete loss when it came to more personal things. Alfred told him it was because whenever he interacts with people he is either wearing a mask or is pulling a façade. Frankly, Bruce just prefers to keep his distance from as many people as possible. Telling anyone his feelings always made him feel vulnerable, and when he is vulnerable people will get hurt. And Bruce hates seeing innocent people get hurt, people like Alfred or Dick.

Dick…

Was he neglecting Dick?

Bruce remembers how utterly alone he used to feel in the beginning. All alone in the darkness of reality, crying cries that will never be heard. Calling for mom and dad who will never answer again. Desperate to hear voices that are gone forever. His mother's tender and loving gaze. His father's deep and gentle encouragements. Never again.

The world had suddenly seemed too bright, too loud, too harsh for someone like him. For someone so lost in a sea of hurt and pain and despair and darkness. The night he saw his parents bleeding on the cold hard ground, the world shifted right before his eyes. He realized that it was all just a lie in the face of a painful truth. A lie to keep the demons away. A lie that failed nonetheless. The demons are there, always were. Always will be.

The world as he knew it is gone. Ghosts and lost souls haunting, claiming every dark corner. Voices whispering, demanding a second chance they'll never get. Monsters watching, waiting for him to fall. The world is cold. The world is loathsome. The world is heartless.

The world does not care.

Everybody suffers and everybody hates.

The world is ugly.

_He _suffers and _he_ hates_. _

But Dick… Young, brilliant Dick. Dick with his bright blue eyes. Dick with his sweet smiles. Dick with his warm generous hugs. Dick with his angelic laugh. Dick with his unwavering trust.

Dick is beautiful.

Dick is light in an otherwise dark world. Warmth in the midst of winter. Dawn after an endless night. Hope after centuries of despair.

Love after a lifetime of hate.

Dick is… everything he needs.

And everything he has denied himself.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Dick came home to be greeted by Alfred. School had been boring. He had to pretend to listen to block-headed teachers telling him things he already knew. The school Bruce had applied him to might be the best all-boys-school in Gotham, but it's still nothing compared to the training sessions he has with Batman. Dick had to force himself to stay awake every passing minute. But the worst part was to act as if he actually cares when a teacher asks him yet another dumb question. The only reason he still attends school is probably for the sake of public formality. What will people think when they hear the boy billionaire's ward gets less than the best? Not as if they really know what the best is, but still. Dick was frowning as he walked in.

"Long day at school, Master Dick?" Alfred asked kindly, taking his school bag from him.

"God, Alfred." Dick made an exaggerated sigh, "You can't even begin to guess how many times I almost fell asleep today. I swear, Al, those teachers know as much about their subjects as the kid next door does."

"With all due respect, young sir, we do not have any immediate neighbors." Alfred gave Dick a smug look, and Dick can't help but giggle. He felt much better already.

"Yeah right, Al. By the way, what's that I smell?" Dick inhaled deeply as a strong waft of something smelling terribly good drifted in his direction. Dick was suddenly reminded of his mother back in the circus and he wondered why. Sniffing again, Dick looked over at Alfred who looked very pleased with himself.

"What you are smelling, sir, is tonight's dinner. I have taken special care to prepare a dish authentic to a travelling circus. I was hoping you would be familiar with this particular one." Dick sniffed at the scent again, and _damn_. Alfred's good. This was exactly what the circus' cook made every time they were celebrating a festival. It was also the same dish he made whenever it was someone's birthday or wedding. A dish consisting of baked chicken submerged in a thick saucy gravy. It might be simple but Dick had never been able to figure out what exactly that sauce is composed of. Dick smiled as warm memories flooded into him. His 8th birthday celebrated in a warm beach town; his parents' wedding anniversary; the circus' grand opening in Manhattan; Simba the tame Lion's 15th birthday; the day he first defied gravity as a Flying Grayson.

"Alfred! This is exactly what we eat during big events back in the circus! How- How did you ever know? " Alfred just cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I have my ways, Master Dick. Moreover, I'll be happy to inform you that Master Bruce might even be able to join us for dinner tonight."

"That's great, Al." Dick beamed up at him, it was not very often that Bruce ate his dinner (or any of his meals, actually) at home.

"Indeed. Now, if you'll be so kind as to excuse me, I have dinner to prepare."

"Sure Al." Dick flashed him a grin before the butler dipped his head slightly and went off. It was late afternoon and there was still plenty of time before dinner, so Dick decided to do some routines in the manor's enormous gym.

The gym Bruce had installed had everything an acrobat could ever ask for and more. The walls of the gym were covered with bullet-proof mirrors and the floor was matted with shock-absorbing matting. Bruce had told Dick that these mats will still prevent him from getting hurt even if he fell from a three-story building. Apparently, their Batman and Robin armor used the same technology at the mats did. Dick was impressed, the matting was thin and smooth enough not to slow him down with his floor-routines. Aside from that the gym also had a total of eight trapezes, two pair of parallel bars, three balance beams, a myriad of other gymnastics equipment and even a large uneven structure used for practicing parkour. Dick knew that Bruce had more than enough money to buy him anything he could ever want (_hell, _Bruce even had enough money to compensate Batman's existence), but he still felt a little embarrassed whenever he saw this gym. Dick was relatively new to the world of politics and money, and he was still far from being comfortable around it. As a circus boy, the only pricey gifts Dick got were from his fans. And even then, the most expensive gift ever got was one of those exquisite bouquets of flowers.

Once in the gym, Dick began stretching out of habit; his pliant body bending and arching gracefully. Standing completely straight on just one hand, he delicately arched his back to lower his feet. He stayed like that for a second before swiftly coiling back to perform a perfect somersault. Landing lightly on both his hands, he braced and somersaulted backwards. Dick smiled as he landed back on both his feet, feeling a familiar excitement flood him. _Next, _he thought, adrenaline beginning to pump through his system, _the trapeze. _

There, high up in the air, is where he belongs. Looking down at the blur of the crowd, wind rushing beneath his feet as he jumped, hands outstretched for the next bar, constantly in motion. Whenever Dick is flying, he is free, he is alive.

Dick looked down at the morbidly empty gym and sighed. There was no cheering crowd this time. And an empty platform waited ahead of him instead of his smiling father, arms out-stretched to catch him. All of Dick's favorite routines need three people to perform: his mother, father and himself. He suddenly felt terribly wrong to be up there all alone, without the rest of his team. Without his mom and dad. He missed the circus, he missed performing, he missed being a Flying Grayson. With a shuddering intake of breath, he jumped. Swinging, gliding and soaring once more; but alone nonetheless. Whenever Dick turned to grab the next trapeze he expected to see a hand reaching out. But, of course it wasn't there.

Dick went through the routine flawlessly, despite the… shortcomings. Besides, acrobatics came to him like instinct. It was in his very blood. It was exhilarating to feel the familiar rush of wind, the hard firmness of the bar and the satisfaction of performing a perfect somersault mid-air once again. Dick couldn't help being happy whenever he was doing what he was born to do. Fly.

"I remember the first time I saw you up there." A deep voice startled Dick the moment he landed on the platform. He turned to see Bruce staring at him from the corner of the gym. How long has he been there? From this far away Dick couldn't make out Bruce's expression, but he could still feel the intensity of those deep midnight-blue eyes.

"They told me gravity would cease to exist. They were right." His voice was hard, but Dick thought he could hear just the slightest trace of a smile there. Dick grinned back.

"Well, the Graysons _are _known to fly, you know." Dick jumped off the platform to elegantly land on his hands and proceeded to do a couple of flips. Dick stopped right in front of Bruce, still grinning. He does enjoy showing off to Bruce. Besides, he was used to an entire tent full of cheering people. Although on second thought, having the Batman himself watch him is not an entirely unappealing idea.

"So I've heard." The corners of Bruce's mouths turned up slightly into an almost-smile as he petted the boy's damp hair. It was a rare occasion to see Bruce like this. Then again, Dick is still very far away from understanding the big, bad bat. But it would be a lie to say he didn't like the way Bruce's big hand felt in his hair. It made him feel… safe. Too bad it was gone only a moment later. Dick felt his guardian's eyes watching him again and he looked up to return an equally blue gaze. Deep midnight-blue locked with radiant baby-blue. His guardian still had that unusual light-hearted vibe about him, and it would be a terrible shame not to play along.

"You're home early." Dick asked with a smirk, looking up sideways at Bruce playfully. "What's up? Did you miss me?" Bruce's expression was unreadable as he eyed Dick silently for barely longer than a heartbeat.

"Come, Alfred would be serving dinner soon. He would like to see you showered." Bruce's deep blue eyes softened just the tiniest bit as he held out a hand, turning to face the direction of the door. Still smiling, Dick took Bruce's hand happily into his own and walked back alongside his guardian. He took the gesture as an unspoken yes to his question. And when Dick felt fuzzy warmth spread through him that caused his heart to flutter and his cheeks to flush, he really did wonder why.

* * *

Alfred sounded the dinner bell at precisely 7 o'clock, just as Dick had started to get really hungry. Dinner was simple, unlike some of the 'proper dinners' Alfred occasionally made, but it reminded Dick of all the happier memories he had of the circus. It was laid out exactly as it used to be; the main course, the rolls that served as a side-dish, the colorful fruit salad, and even the orange soda Dick had always loved. Alfred _is _meticulous in his perfection.

"Is everything as wished, young Master?" Alfred inquired as he saw Dick looking around with a wide-eyed expression.

"Alfred," he was a little more than just taken aback at the effort Alfred had put in. "this is… Golly… This is exactly how everything used to be! I know you have your ways, Al, but… these 'ways' of yours, must be one heck of a method to find things out!" Dick was rewarded with a smug smile from Alfred.

"Indeed they are, sir. Besides, I strongly believe that you do deserve to enjoy a meal that you associate with more jubilant memories." Alfred's eyes were warm as he gestured for Dick to sit down. Dick was still eyeing at how Alfred had perfectly replicated the circus-cook's festival meal when he saw movement from the corner of his eye.

"Good evening, Master Bruce. It's excellent that you had managed to make it here for dinner. As you can see sir, I have prepared something rather special tonight."

"It does smell very good, Alfred. What is it exactly?" Bruce appeared into the dining room from the door in long easy strides. Dick looked up and was a little startled to see that Bruce was looking directly back at him. With his mind suddenly blank with the intensity of Bruce's gaze, Dick just stared back. The minutes, _no it was probably not even longer than a second, _that passed as Dick gazed into those deep-blue orbs were spend trying to figure out the look in them. They were intense, of that Dick was sure, but the rest of the look was impossible to decipher. Dick thought he saw some kind of flicker of confusion in that second. A very rare and temporary uncertainty in Bruce's otherwise perfectly impermeable expression. And, yes. It was nothing more than temporary. It was gone before Dick could really ask him if there was something wrong. Dick recomposed himself as he heard Alfred speak again from the other side of the table.

"Before you, sir, is a meal prepared and enjoyed only in a travelling circus. The cook under the employment of Haly's Circus prepares this very meal specially for festivals and the occasional events of wedding or anniversary." Alfred shot Dick a tiny smile before continuing. "I have reason to believe that Master Dick is especially fond of this dish." Dick beamed up at Alfred, then a thoughtful-looking Bruce.

"Bruce, you won't believe that this looks and smells exactly the way I remember it."

"Sure I will, Dick." Bruce's voice was effortlessly calm as he took a seat across from Dick. "I am quite aware of what Alfred is capable of making. I have never tried this, but it smells delicious." Taking the hint, Alfred bowed slightly.

"Bon appétit, Masters." With that Alfred left the both of them in the dining hall, probably just to wait in an unseen corner. Somehow, Alfred always knew exactly when he was expected to reappear. For a brief moment Dick wondered if Alfred would have made a good crime fighter with his skills as a butler. He imagined Alfred jumping from roof to roof in a suit alongside Batman and Robin, begging his excuses every time he took a thug down. Dick couldn't suppress a grin at the thought of that.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Bruce's deep voice rumbled from across the table as he began putting some food on his plate. Dick had already fully laden his and was pushing a spoonful of chicken and gravy in his mouth.

"Oh nothing." He said hurriedly. "Just another one of my crazy ideas."

"Mind telling me about them? I always found your ideas very amusing, Dick." Bruce sounded as if he was in an extraordinarily good mood, and Dick couldn't help but smile.

"Well, have you ever noticed how Alfred always knows about everything going on in the manor, and how he can always tell exactly when he's needed? I mean, he can make himself appear out of thin air sometimes!" Dick lowered his voice a little, almost whispering what he said next. "Don't you think he could put those skills to use out there?" Dick motioned with his thumb to the general direction of the batcave.

"I suppose he can, Dick, if he isn't so insistent about caring for the manor's well-being and getting his beauty sleep." Bruce was obviously not serious, and Dick was honestly very surprised to hear Bruce crack a joke. To top that, Bruce even chuckled a little. One thing about Bruce Wayne he had learned in the six months was that the billionaire never jokes, unless he's playing the spoiled playboy façade.

"Or making one heck of a dinner for us." Dick added and took a massive bite off of a roll; Bruce smiled a little more at that.

"How's school, Dick?" The sudden change in topic put Dick off guard and he didn't get the chance to think about what he was going to say, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Great. My classmates are always very nice. I think most of them like me quite much."

"That's good to hear, I'm glad you're making friends at school. Your teachers also tell me you're catching up very nicely." Dick remembered how bored he was that afternoon at school. Those dusty men and women who call themselves teachers barely qualified for their title. There is an actual chance that they could be quite smart, but that fact is drowned out by one thing: They. Are. Boring. The only teacher Dick thought who is worthy of his respect is the man right in front of him. The Batman himself.

"I do have the best mentor anyone can ask for. How do you think I got an A for Civil Studies and Spanish?" Dick grinned, and on second thought added, "And for gymnastics?"

"Dick, I couldn't have possibly helped you anymore in gymnastics than I do now. I do hope you didn't show off too much."

"No Bruce, that's not what I meant." Dick could barely suppress a giggle when he saw Bruce blink once. "If it weren't for you, how else did I manage enough self-control not to earn myself an A++?"

The rest of dinner continued in the same manner. Bruce asking Dick questions from one side of the table, and Dick chattering happily from the other end. Occasionally, Bruce would even throw in a joke. Dick would just say something witty back and giggle some more at seeing his otherwise gloomy guardian in such a good mood. All in all, dinner was spent in light-hearted ease. A rare occasion when they could both sit down together and relax over an excellent dinner. _Alfred is a genius, _Dick thought as he saw the man taking away plates to make way for dessert. _He's probably the only man alive who knows how to give Bruce such a good mood._

They were talking about all the reasons why Dick should be allowed to watch the late-night movies on the weekends (provided they didn't have to go on patrol, obviously). He really didn't want to miss watching a rerun of The Sound of Music that Friday night. Bruce was effortlessly striking every single one of Dick's arguments down, but the most annoying part was that little smirk dancing on his lips. It made Dick all the more determined to convince Bruce, even when he decided quite some time ago that going to bed is probably a much better idea. Dick was heatedly thinking up a new counterattack when Bruce shifted. Dick glanced in his direction to see that the smirk had disappeared and that his eyes held an uncanny glint. The next thing Bruce said confused Dick.

"Say Dick, would you tell me more about your friends?" His tone told Dick nothing, and he wondered if Bruce genuinely wanted to know or if he had just found another way to win the argument. Dick searched the eyes that felt as if they were burning into his soul, but found nothing, again.

"My friends? Do you mean the ones at school?"

"Yes."

"Well… Everyone's really nice and kind. They asked a lot of questions at first, which was honestly a little more than annoying, but that quickly passed. Most of them tell me they really like spending time with me and sometimes-"

"I meant a little more specific." Bruce interrupted with the exact same lusterless tone and expression. "Is there anyone in particular you spend more time with?"

"Uh, there's a boy from gymnastics I always end up having to help. And another one that I always end up getting paired up with in class projects. There's one more that always gets seated next to me." Dick paused to recall the hours he spent at school. "I also know an older boy who comes by every lunch break to eat lunch together with me. I'm not quite sure from which class he is, but he told me he goes to another school that's right beside ours." Bruce narrowed his eyes a little, and by then Dick was flipping all kinds of questions in his head. The look Bruce had meant danger. It's the same one Dick recognizes when they're following a lead as Batman and Robin. What exactly is he getting at?

"The building beside yours is a Highschool. How much older is he?"

"Geez, Bruce. I can't tell just by looking at him. He's very nice to me, so don't worry." Just then Alfred came with a bowl of ice cream. Dessert looked absolutely delicious and Dick couldn't stop from digging into it immediately. After swallowing and realizing that Bruce was still waiting, still staring Dick continued uncertainly. "Around 4 to 5 years? He probably looks older than he is."

"Why is that?"

"He told me he's the captain of the football team. Which is not as impressive as he thinks it sounds." Dick sniggered a little despite the heat Bruce's eyes were giving off. "He's quite big, not nearly as big as you are, but it still makes him look a whole lot older than he is." At that, Bruce narrowed his eyes even more, not even attempting to hide the dark suspicion boiling in them.

"The primary and Highschool buildings are quite a distance away. Did you ever ask him why he bothers?" This was not Bruce, this was the Batman talking. As direct and efficient as any living man can ever be. And efficient it definitely is.

"Yeah, once, a couple of weeks ago." Dick said in between mouthfuls of creamy vanilla ice cream. It was hard not to feel a little suffocated when Bruce was looking at him like that. He just hoped vanilla ice cream was enough of a distraction to keep a straight face. "It was raining and he still came. I thought that was kind of silly of him, so I asked him why he wouldn't have preferred to eat lunch with his other friends that day."

"What did he say?"

"His answer was just as silly. He told me that a little rain will never keep him from coming to see me. Really, Bruce, the only thing he does when we eat is talk about how well he did on his last game. He couldn't possibly be some kind of criminal. He probably just likes me." Bruce eyebrows puckered into a kind of frown and he looked down in thought. Seeing his chance, Dick seized it.

"What's with the sudden questions, Bruce?" The brooding figure quickly snapped up and composed himself. Bruce almost instantly returned to his earlier easy mood.

"I was just wondering how you're doing socially, Dick. It's not always easy to fit into a completely different lifestyle in such a short time."

"I guess so. I don't really mind change that much. I'm quite used to it." He wasn't looking at Bruce when he said that; he was much too busy licking the last remains of the creamy substance from his spoon. After a pause he added, "Don't worry about me, Bruce".

He shot the older man a reassuring smile as he spoke. Bruce didn't say anything. His midnight-blue eyes burned with something Dick couldn't quite put his finger on.

* * *

**Author's note**: So, what did you guys think of a Dick P.O.V? Love it? Hate it?  
Please shout out all your burning comments and/or questions in the comment section :)  
Knowing what you guys would love to hear will help a lot with making the third chapter.

P.s. if anyone out there has any art or music to share with this story, please do!


	3. Of Rich Men and Crimes

**Author's note: **First of all I have to thank all those of you who reviewed, faved and followed this story! I really appreciate that!  
This is the chapter where you'll finally see Bruce and Dick as Batman and Robin. So, I'll hope you'll enjoy this!

P.S. This takes place on the same night where chapter 2 left off.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Of Rich Men and Crimes**

The shadows were long in the biting cold of the starless night. It was quiet with the occasional static crackle of dying street lights and the howling wind.

In a lonely corner of the city, where the darkness was almost impenetrable and the air reeked, the shadows stirred. The slightest tremble in the still air was followed by a fleeting flash of silhouettes. And just as fast as it came, the disturbance in the seemingly unyielding stillness was gone. The silence draped back over the shadows and the icy wind was left to howl to its contentment.

Somewhere in the depths of the city's streets of corruption and sin lay a crumpled body, alone and cold and as still as the night that surrounded it. The shadows stirred again, slowly this time, to reveal the black, hulking form of the Bat. Its eyes were cold flints of white as it made its way to the fallen figure on the ground.

Two fingers clad in heavy black leather pressed into ghost-pale skin pulsing with a stuttering heartbeat. The gloved fingers moved upwards cautiously to yank the head to face the owner of those fingers. Its skin was dripping with cold sweat and its muscles were twitching uncontrollably.

The gloved hand was steady as white slants narrowed to examine the face it held. Wide and unblinking eyes stared unseeingly at whatever was in front of them, pupils shrunk to make them look almost entirely grey. Thick streams of tears continuously brimmed out of the swollen lids as lips silently mouthed the same word again and again.

Why.

Every feature of the crumpled body was the embodiment of despair.

The crouching caped figure straightened and activated a device on his belt. Help will be on its way. Something was done to this man. Something terrible. This man had a name, Donald McGlenn. A rich and arrogant businessman. Undoubtedly shallow like the rest of his peers and undoubtedly corrupt. Just last week he was seen with his arms draped around two exotic beauties in one of Bruce Wayne's parties. He had been bragging about his newest sport car collection to his equally pompous colleagues. Bruce had seen him kiss and grope the women in his arms every once in a while, disgustingly unashamed of the noises they would make.

What was a man like him doing here? Where was his army of bodyguards he spends thousands of dollars on? What has happened to the flock of dames he usually carries around like pets?

The Bat looked up at the sound of sirens. That would be the commissioner with an ambulance to take the millionaire to see a doctor. Gordon will know how to take the necessary protocol from here. The dark form quickly melted back into the shadows before the men arrived, his work was far from finished. He waited there a moment longer to hear the men utter surprised gasps as they recognized the man who was currently being dragged into the ambulance.

"Oh my God." He heard a bewildered whisper as one of the men saw the condition McGlenn was in. "That's Donald McGlenn. What did they do to him?"

"We'll find out soon enough." That was the firm commanding voice of the commissioner trying to reassure his men. "This must be the work of one of those lunatics. I'll check with Arkham if any of their patients are missing, and I'll tell them to double check if Mr. Crane is where he's supposed to be."

At first glimpse, it did look like the work of Crane. But he knew that the Scarecrow specializes in fear, and this man was not afraid. He's in shock, he'd been tortured. Was McGlenn hallucinating? No, he did not think so. Something so awful had been done to him that it left him an incoherent shivering wreck.

But the motive? A personal vendetta? A mad obsession? He'll have to find out.

Just as he was about to touch his intercom, it beeped once.

"Robin to Batman." A clear voice spoke through the speakers. "I went around twice now and still found nothing. The streets are practically abandoned. Same luck on the North side?"

"Something came up." His voice was low and serious. This is the no-joking-around voice he uses when it's all business. "Meet me back at the Batmobile, we need to discuss this."

Robin must have gotten the hint, because his previous goofiness was gone. "Be right there. Robin out."

The ride back to the Batcave was spend trying to explain the unusual lack of crime and the condition Batman had found Donald McGlenn in. Robin had suggested a few scenarios where the millionaire was blackmailed and lured out of his mansion to pay it off. Afterwards he was injected with a strong drug to cause his current predicament.

"We're not sure yet if it's going to be anything permanent." The boy continued. "If it is, then that's a sure fire way to keep the man from talking." Robin's story was a possibility, but it was rough and frayed around the edges.

"If they wanted to silence him, they could have just killed him." The Bat pointed out. The biggest mystery of this whole thing was its motive. No crime is solved until a motive can be found. Unless if it was the work of a madman. But McGlenn was an idiot and the enemies he had ranged from jealous ex-girlfriends to irritated party hosts. Nothing too significant or dangerous. Robin looked over at his mentor. His eyes were hidden behind his mask but his lips were pouted in frustration.

"Do you think this is somehow connected to the fact that Gotham is so quiet?" The Boy Wonder piped in. The city has indeed been much too quiet for the last two days. Batman mentally listed all the possibilities for such circumstances. None of them seem to be relevant for what happened to McGlenn.

"We'll have to wait for what the doctors say of his case to be sure." Batman reached into his belt to hand the boy a glass vial. "A blood sample, in case he was drugged." The boy scrutinized the dark liquid as if he would get an answer just by looking.

"I want you to run a complete analysis on the sample. Double check with Scarecrow's fear toxins and any other kind of chemical that activates the stress-inducing regions of the brain." They were just speeding through one of the cave's hidden entrances and Robin was already beginning to unbuckle himself.

"Consider it done, Batman." As soon as the Batmobile came to a halt in the gloom of the cave, Robin jumped out in a red and green flurry. The boy's yellow cape billowed behind him as he bolted to the cave's laboratory with the vial tightly clutched in his hand. Robin was a fast learner, he only had to brief the boy once on how to run a blood analysis before he was doing it almost perfectly on his own.

Batman remained where he was for a moment until the yellow cape disappeared around a corner. He admired Robin's boundless energy. Even when the night is as cold and forbidding as it was tonight, Robin's enthusiasm was unyielding.

There was nothing to admire about Gotham's winter nights, they were cold and lonely. And yet, the young boy had turned shining blue eyes to him one day and told him happily that winter was on its way. He had asked his ward whether he enjoyed the cold, only to watch the boy shake his head.

"Not exactly the cold, no." He said with a distinct glimmer shining in his eyes.

"Then what is there to look forward to?"

"Curling up next to you with a mug of hot chocolate." Dick's smile had been warm and bright, and it was enough to make Bruce look forward to winter too. With Dick.

The cowled man sighed and focused back on the task at hand. He has to find out what McGlenn had been up to in the past week before sweeping the city once more. But first, he'll check in on the commissioner to see what the police had found. The Batmobile's boosters fired in a red and orange blur as the car sped away.

* * *

"Donald McGlenn seems to have walked to where he is." A policeman was saying in the commissioner's office. "At least, for a mile or so, judging from where witnesses last saw him. He does not show physical signs of being hurt or sexually assaulted in anyway."

"Did the doctors get anything out of the man?" Commissioner Gordon was pacing his office, irritated at the lack of leads they found. No fingerprints. No missing money. No injuries. No letters. No tell-tale phone calls. No motive. No nothing.

"No, sir. The man is incoherent. They say he's been traumatized pretty badly."

"By what, Saunders. By what?" Gordon paced a couple more times before he sat down on his desk, busily rummaging through files. McGlenn was a public icon. This incident could provoke all sorts of unwanted attention from the media. If the police can't get to the roots of this fast enough, people all around Gotham will go crazy. The last thing Gordon wanted was an entire city to begin a panic frenzy.

"You're dismissed, Officer Saunders."

The young man walked towards the door before looking at the overworked commissioner anxiously.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" He tried.

"No thank you, officer. The only thing I need is what this man has to say. Only if they can get him to talk." The last part was said more to himself than to the young man standing in the doorway.

"Understood. Thank you, sir." The door closed with a click and left Gordon alone with his thoughts.

"Anything I can do to help, commissioner?" A deep voice sounded from a dark corner behind the commissioner's desk. Startled, Gordon spun around quickly to see a looming figure emerge. Having Batman suddenly appear in his office uninvited had happened often enough to get used to it, but it still gave him the creeps every time.

"Not much that we haven't done already. I'm beginning to think that maybe this man wasn't even assaulted. Maybe this is just one of his latest stunts to get some attention from the media. Well, if that's the case, his plan seems to be working." The commissioner's rants were cut short by the other man's deep voice.

"This was with him when I found him." The Batman's gloved hand pushed a crumpled piece of paper in the commissioner's direction. There were some words scribbled on it.

_The brightest glance of pride and power,_

_I feel- have been_

"This must be someone's sick idea of a joke." The commissioner looked up into the hard lines of the cowled face.

"How's his condition?"

"He's not improving. We have relocated him from the emergency room to a psychiatric ward. They tell me he's in a sort of trauma. The guy'll probably not be well enough to talk for quite some time."

"Was anything missing from his house?"

"No, nothing. Whoever did this to him got nothing out of him." Gordon sighed. "And, I'm telling you, it was not done for a sane reason. Everything points out to the work of a maniac, but none of the patients in Arkham are missing." The commissioner had started pacing again.

"Damn it! We don't even know what happened to the man." Gordon spun around on his heel in irritation, and began rummaging through the police reports again. Police reports that told absolutely nothing.

"If this is the work of another psychotic maniac, then nobody is safe until whoever did this is safely behind bars in Arkham. Maybe we should-" He sighed again as he saw that he had been talking to nothing but the shadows in his office.

"Man, I do hate it when he does that." The commissioner muttered as he set back to reading through reports.

The hours Batman spend tracking down leads and patrolling through deserted streets were fruitless. He had swept through McGlenn's house twice and the only thing he learned was that the man was expected to come to a gala that Thursday. A gala funded by Bruce Wayne. Another dead-end. Somewhere along the way Robin had called in to tell him that the only other thing in McGlenn's blood was alcohol.

Reluctantly, he had to admit that there was nothing left to do that night but wait. It felt wrong to just do nothing and wait, but there was no other alternative. Besides, Bruce Wayne had a meeting at 9 the next day and Dick Grayson had school at 8.

Robin had already insisted to call it a night when he was doing his 3rd sweep through the city. On the 5th, he finally admitted that the Batman was not going to be of much use that night.

Back in the moist air of the Batcave, he found that Dick had busied himself with reading through police reports and documents on the main computer's database. From the way the boy was chewing on his bottom lip, he knew that his search was as fruitless as Batman's.

"Got anything, Robin?" The Batmobile's engine purred to rest as he made his way to where Robin was seated.

"Nope." Robin spun around in his chair and threw his hands in the air. "The only thing fishy about this guy's life is the amount of women he can land."

"It's late, Robin, and you have school tomorrow. Why don't you get some sleep?" Pulling off his cowl, Bruce sat at his own over-sized desk to shift through scattered files. Robin was quiet for a few seconds before he began peeling his own mask off.

"And what will you do?" Dick's clear voice cut through the cave's chill. Bruce turned to see his ward looking at him intently. Blue eyes wide as they waited for an answer. He suddenly looked so small sitting in the middle of this dark, morbid cave.

'_I still have some files to go through.' _was hanging on the tip of his tongue. But something was holding him back from just saying it. Maybe it had something to do with the way Dick was looking up at him. Or maybe it was just the nagging thought that he would find nothing in those files anyway.

"Will you tuck me into bed tonight?" Baby-blue eyes still bore into his, glimmering hopefully up at him. It was that moment that he noticed how… unusual Dick's eyes were. They held the promise of the brightness Dick always brings with him, but if you look closely enough you could also see pain. A particular sort of pain he was all too familiar with. The pain of loss.

And he hated seeing it there. Hated seeing the boy in any kind of pain. Hated the very thought of Dick being hurt. And all he wanted to do was to take the small boy in his arms and soothe all his qualms away. To feel the boy's warmth pressed against him. To have Dick look at him with his brilliant blue eyes and smile. All he wanted was to know that Dick was happy. That he was happy here, with him.

Looking into those baby-blue eyes now, he remembered how Dick's small face looked like with streaks of tears wetting his cheeks last night. How his voice quivered as sobs racked his small body. Never. He would never want to see Dick like that again. He also remembered the way Dick had smiled up at him. A small and sweet smile that showed him just how much Dick trusts and needs him.

For some reason, he just couldn't say no.

* * *

Dick's pajamas were pale blue, and he smelled of the chocolate milk Bruce had brought him. He didn't know why he hadn't just called Alfred to bring the boy his chocolate milk. Or why he had stayed to sit on the edge of Dick's bed, just watching him. Perhaps it was the way Dick would curl up in his blankets and sip at the hot liquid.

"Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me a story." Dick was beaming up at him, with _those _eyes and _that _smile.

"A story? What kind of story?"

"That one." Dick pointed at a single book that rested on his nightstand. It wasn't one of the books Bruce had bought him, it was one of the few things Dick had brought with him when he left the circus behind. Along with the book, the young boy had also brought a picture of him and his parents, his last Flying Grayson uniform and a stuffed elephant. Bruce was not supposed to know that Dick hides his stuffed elephant under the bed, but he noticed one night when he came in to check on the boy and found him sleeping with the elephant wrapped in his small arms. It had been the second night Dick spent at the manor and Bruce was worried that the boy might have been plagued with nightmares. The sight of the young boy cuddling the stuffed doll was adorable, and he had made sure to tell Alfred not to move the doll from its hiding place whenever the butler would tidy his room.

The book Dick meant was a children's book, probably something his mother used to read him when he was much younger.

"Alright." He finally said. The pages of the book were worn and the pictures were slightly faded. Bruce wondered just how many times Dick's mother had read him this story in the past before… before that night in the circus tent.

"There was once a little bird that lived high up in a tree." He started and a giggle escaped the young boy as he wriggled deeper into his blankets.

"It was young and hadn't learned how to fly yet. Every day it would watch its older siblings soar through the skies. The little bird wondered if one day it would also be able to fly. It was smaller and its wings were shorter, so the little bird doubted that it could ever fly as gracefully as its siblings." Bruce smiled inwardly as he watched Dick's eyes begin to droop slightly.

"The little bird would wonder bitterly every day and every night. Until the day came when it was old enough to learn how to fly. Remembering how small it was and how short its wings were, it was worried that it would fail. The little bird was scared that it would tumble and fall straight down to the ground, but the little bird's siblings were there to encourage it. Its siblings told the little bird that flying does not come from your size or how long your wings are, but from the will in your heart. Encouraged by its siblings, the little bird jumped."

"For a moment, it seemed as if it would crash into the ground. But the little bird managed to open its wings just in time. It felt the wind rush beneath its wings and the breeze ruffle its feathers. It realized that it could fly just as beautifully as any of its sibling. And that was the day the little bird learned how to fly."

Dick was smiling sleepily when he finished the story. His lids were fluttering with the effort to stay awake. Bruce took the empty glass from the boy's small hands and placed it on the nightstand for Alfred to clear away in the morning. Dick was already half-asleep when Bruce tucked the small body more comfortably into the thick blankets.

"I had always wondered what it was like to live in a tree." Dick murmured into his pillow.

"Good night, Dick." Bruce stroked the side of Dick's head, carding his fingers lazily through soft, silken hair. A smile found its way on Bruce's face as he felt the young boy lean into his touch. This is how he'll always want to see Dick. Safe and happy.

"G'night, Bruce." The boy mumbled.

Bruce couldn't resist to press a kiss on the boy's temple. Dick was so beautiful when he was happy. The skin beneath his lips was warm and smelled of soft blankets and chocolate. He lingered for a heartbeat before pulling away. Dick's eyes were closed and his pink lips were curled into a drowsy smile. Yes, this is how he would always want to see Dick.

* * *

He would never admit it. But that night, sleep eluded him. His mind was filled with a whirlwind of fleeting images. The silence was too loud and he was constantly reminded of how big his bed was.

How big and empty it was.

But above all, it was the hollow ache deep in his chest which left him restless and wide awake.

He would never admit it. But until dawn, he spends the rest of the night hidden in the shadows on the outside of a window. Just watching.

* * *

**Author's note**:That note left with McGlenn was from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe called The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour. Just in case you would like to check the rest out.  
Again, please leave any burning comments or questions in the comment section. I really appreciate any kind of feedback. :)


	4. Of Galas and Frustration

**Author's note: **Finally, another chapter update! I apologize for taking so much longer to update than I was hoping. I was being held up by tons of homework and exams at school...  
Anyway, thank you to all of you who have stayed loyal to this story. All your reviews are very much appreciated :)

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Of Galas and Frustration**

It was Thursday, two days after Donald McGlenn was found on the streets. Batman has been keeping an almost-continual watch on the man. It was not exactly the most feasible theory, but there was always the possibility that it was indeed an attempt at murder. And when the killer discovers that his victim had survived, he would almost certainly return to finish what he started.

Besides that, Bruce was also overly aware about the consequences negligence could have. The fact that they know so little does not help them with making any predictions. They simply couldn't afford losing sight of this case.

McGlenn may be kept under very heavy security, but Batman was still not willing to run the risk of losing his only living witness and victim. But above all, he was unwilling to let anyone else get hurt. That was very easily the last thing he ever wanted.

Psychiatrists in charge of McGlenn have reported that he was beginning to show some improvement. When encouraged enough, the man had even managed to form short, but coherent, sentences. It would still be at least three weeks before he can be questioned about the case, which means that it would also still be three weeks before Batman could get the answers they needed.

To make the wait all the more agonizing, the city was still disturbingly quiet by its standards. There were only the occasional robberies by a few desperate teenagers or attempted abuse by another drunkard. Bruce has noted that all of them were spontaneous acts, not the premeditated crimes, ranging from drug extortions to arms dealing to illegal human trafficking, which usually run rampant in Gotham. Nearly four entire days without a single hint of any major crime had begun to make him very, very worried.

He had taken precautionary steps the previous night and questioned a handful of men working for the biggest crime bosses in town. He was sure at least half of them were supposed to make a move in the course of that week, and yet, all of them had sworn they had decided to stay down for some time, that they were "honest-to-God" not planning anything. Some of them even went so far as to say that they were clean for good now.

Held under the unwavering glare of the Bat, they were bound to be afraid. Especially if the Bat had _that _dangerous edge to his growl and had his gauntleted hand wrapped around their throats. Some of them hyperventilated, some of them cried, some even fainted when the Bat's eyes narrowed to an unforgiving squint. And yet, the only thing he learned from an entire night of doing nothing else but scaring the wits out of scum, was that every single one of them were hiding something behind the tremor in their voices.

From the way the men refused to tell him anything despite the way they were begging and pleading for him to let go, this _thing_ they were afraid of was obviously something they feared even more than the black, towering figure of the Bat. Besides, not many men would have preferred to face the Dark Knight's fury over a relatively simpler confession.

By then he was sure somebody or something had threatened these men to keep their mouths shuts. The most likely theory was that a very big crime organization was behind this whole affair. Not many individual men have the influence or power to keep a city the size of Gotham quiet. And he was also convinced that this has everything to do with what happened to Donald McGlenn.

Bruce had spent hours staring at criminal records, trying to find some kind of a lead as to what's going on. All his efforts were futile. Both Batman and the ever-determined boy wonder came up with nothing. It was beginning to get on his nerves. And Gordon's.

The mayor had been anything but pleased with the recent turn of events and he had been more than a little demanding to get results out of his police commissioner as fast as possible. As if Gordon wasn't already under enough pressure.

There was one last lead that could possibly give them any answers. The chances were slim, but there weren't many other things he could do. He had this nagging dread that it was just a matter of time before they will find a second victim. He wasn't entirely too happy with the idea that they were running out of options. And particularly not if the remaining option meant having to use his rich-boy persona.

"Maybe if you didn't look as if you'll bite my fingers off any second, I'll be more convinced you're actually going to a gala." A sunny, clear voice came from behind him as he strode into the living room. He was dressed to the utmost perfection, Alfred had seen to that. Every inch of his being screamed out 'rich', 'playboy' and 'elite' for the world to ravish. His hair was slicked back, and the particular shade of black of his suit complimented the blue of his eyes charmingly. This was the look many of Brucie's peers described as 'deliciously irresistible', but the only thing Dick seemed to notice was the dangerous glint he had in his eyes.

"This gala is one of the last places McGlenn was supposed to make an appearance in." The low, guarded voice that came from the dazzling figure of Brucie, the air-headed womanizer, seemed terribly out of place. "There may be something there."

Dick was lounging in a couch, one leg tucked beneath him and the other dangling idly over the edge. Next to him was a wide plate filled with Alfred's peanut butter cookies, fresh from the oven. He was lazily flipping through the pages of a comic book as he glanced at the bigger man.

"Aw… c'mon, Bruce. Those galas of yours can't possibly have any more use than to chatter about Gotham's latest gossip." The comic book hid the smirk that formed on Dick's lips, but Bruce could still see mischief glimmer in the boy's baby-blue eyes.

"One of my guests may know something that we don't, Dick. McGlenn could have confided in one of his acquaintances about any threats, or blackmail."

"Well, I hope you're right, Bruce." The boy mumbled through a mouthful of cookie as he placed his comic away. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment before Bruce turned and walked away. It may only have been a split second, but it was long enough for Bruce to have seen the depth of trust in Dick's eyes.

It had been six long months since the very first time he gazed into Dick's baby blue eyes and their endless depths of trust. Six months, and it still startles him every time. Although he wasn't sure if it was because Dick trusts so deeply, so completely… or if it was because Dick had trusted him from the very moment they first met.

He will remember that moment for as long as he lives, of that he can be sure. He could never forget the lost, heartbreaking wails Dick made as he knelt beside the broken bodies of what used to be his mother and father. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if by not seeing he would make everything just disappear. With every wrecking sob Bruce could feel an old, unhealing wound being ripped open all over again. But perhaps it was the way the boy had seemed so small and alone in the colorful circus tent that had finally made him wrap his arms around the slight frame.

Dick's body was cold as he held him. He willed Dick to know that there was someone out there who understands, someone who cares. The boy buried his face into his chest and desperately clung on to him, a complete stranger.

He said nothing to Dick. There was just nothing to be said. He, above all people, knew that nothing anyone could say would ever make the pain any less. So he just held the boy through the worse, and swore to never let go.

Bruce was walking towards the front doors, where just outside Alfred was waiting patiently next to a shining black Porsche, when Dick's sunny voice made him stop in his tracks.

"Have fun." The dark-haired boy added with a smile so bright it's hard to believe otherwise.

* * *

"Oh, Brucie! I insist that you _must _dance with me." A blonde beauty queen in five-inch high stilettos and a dress that barely hid anything was practically pulling at his arm. Her lips were so close to his ear he could almost _feel _the sickening stickiness of her blood-red lipstick. Darlene, he thinks her name was. Not that it really made a difference. "It's such a _perfect _night for a dance."

"I beg to disagree!" The blonde hanging on his other arm whined. "I think my Brucie would much rather dance with me." She said as she pressed the swell of her breasts into the length of his arm.

"Darlene, Jolie," The handsome playboy said nonchalantly. "why don't I fetch the both of you something to drink first?" The smile he flashed could dazzle and leave every woman in the hall star-truck. And it served its purpose well, because the two ladies just swooned after him as he untangled himself from their grasp and headed to the bar. This was how most of the night passed. It was either being tailed by an infatuated flock of Gotham's most beautiful or chatting to the most preposterous men of the elite class. This was not his exact idea of fun, although his playboy persona was supposed to be having the time of his life.

After two hours of prodding and prying several of McGlenn's associates, he gave up on the notion completely. It turned out that none of them had even spoken to the man the day prior to the incident. McGlenn was not the type of person people would want to call for a friendly chat. McGlenn was the type of person that seemingly could only talk about himself, his money and himself. Most people with half the brain to have any useful information would try to avoid the man as much as possible.

Determined that he couldn't find anything in his guests that night, Bruce decided to focus his attention on other problems. Such as the petite girl effectively dragging him to a more secluded part of the building. She wasn't completely bad to look at, with dark brown hair that flowed down to her perky breasts and over to the curve of her ass. Tiffany. Bruce recalls her from the times he had seen her at various other receptions.

They finally found an unused bathroom in one of the building's emptier sections. Tiffany was already pressed flush against him, lips an inch away from his. Her bubbly, fruity perfume was strong to the point of being almost too overwhelming. His head would reel slightly whenever he took a deep breath of her scent.

"Bruce," Her voice was heavy with raw desire. "take me here. Please, Brucie." She was half-moaning as she attached her lips onto his. Her tongue was soft and pliant underneath his as their kiss became more and more heated. He snaked his hand over her tiny waist to cup the curve of her ass and gave it a squeeze. Tiffany squealed in response. Being especially bold, he snaked his hands further under her mini-skirt and rubbed at the soft material of her panties.

"Ah, Bruce!" She began rocking into the hand that was rubbing up and down the silken length of her panties. Even through the fabric, he could feel moist rapidly soaking through. He pulled away from her hot mouth and began kissing his way along her jaw.

"Bruce." She rasped as he slipped a finger into her panties and began massaging her folds in slow circles. "Now. I want you now."

"As you wish, darling." Taking his hands out from under her skirt, he pinned her petite body against a wall. Her lips were on his again as she began pulling her panties off. The kiss was wet and messy, and the porn-star moans escaping her lips were nothing less than obscene. He felt slender legs wrap around his waist as he began biting on her lower lip. Her whole body bucked wantonly against his at the first contact between his cock's swollen tip and her dripping wet hole.

Pleasure flooded his senses as he began pushing in. She was stretched snugly around him and the delicious wetness made slurping noises at every thrust. Her head was thrown over his shoulder and her nails were leaving crescent-shaped dents on the back of his neck. With every thrust into the hot wetness, he could feel the knot low in his stomach gradually getting tighter and tighter.

With his eyes squeezed shut, all he could feel was carnal bliss that made his breath come out in ragged shallow gasps. His mind went almost entirely blank except for the delicious wet friction that came along every deep push.

He groaned as he felt the pressure tightening around him. She came with a high-pitched scream that echoed through the entire bathroom.

The gush of slippery wetness and sudden tightness that pressed around his swollen cock made him groan from deep within his chest. His thrusts became erratic as he felt the knot in his stomach become almost unbearably tight. A low guttural groan slipped past his lips again. He was so close to the edge. The heat scorching low in his gut was like liquid fire. When was the last time he got relief?

He could feel soft hair pressing into the side of his face and feel the press of a slight figure beneath him. He felt the small body beneath him shudder as he buried himself in deep, and that was enough to push him off the edge. With a final hard thrust, he saw white splashes dance around in his vision as he came. Hard.

Wave after wave of pleasure flooded him. And the only thing he could think about was the way soft hair nuzzled his neck and the way the small body squirmed underneath him. He groaned helplessly as he turned his face to inhale the scent of silken soft hair. The intoxicating, fuzzy, soft-sweet scent that he so longed for.

Only that it wasn't the intoxicating, fuzzy, soft-sweet scent. It was too bubbly and too floral. He snapped his eyes open and was surprised to see long, flowing brown hair.

He blinked in confusion a few times, and pulled back slightly to stare into hazel eyes.

_Blue_. Was the only thought he could muster.

He ran his hand through the hair that he was nuzzling just moments ago. The straight wispy texture felt oddly out of place beneath his fingertips. He suddenly realized that the body his other hand was caressing somehow felt too curvy, too feminine…

_What?_

"Oh, Brucie…" A shrill breathless female voice sighed. _Tiffany_. His mind cleared as he came down from the heights of his orgasm. _Tiffany. _His conscience was screaming at him. _So what was I…_

Bitter shame slowly crept into him as he realized what had just happened. The brunette still entangled in his arms was not what made him lose himself in a wild frenzy of lust. It was not flowing, brown hair that he imagined carding his fingers through. It was not red lipstick-tinted lips that he wanted to kiss until they were swollen and raw. It was not hazel eyes he wanted to stare into for the rest of the night. It was not this fruity scent he yearned to breathe in so desperately.

_What am I doing?_

His head thrummed with an endless train of questions; questions that he can't possibly answer.

If only he can provide an explanation for what he had just done, then maybe he wouldn't be so... so… confused. If only he could understand what this twisting feeling deep in his chest was.

But he can't.

* * *

"Your grilled cheese sandwich, young sir." Alfred's cultured voice announced behind the boy clad in a bright green and red suit. Dick had been busying himself with an article Batman had asked him to go over. It was about the rumors going around of a big cocaine shipment coming in from South America.

There really wasn't anything new there which they weren't already aware of. The things they did need to know (like who they are expecting to meet and why they decided to act again tonight after 4 days being dormant) were still a big mystery. Not exactly the kind of thing Bruce would want to hear him report, especially not in the mood he was in. But upon hearing the butler, the boy spun around in his chair to abandon his research and pounce for the warm sandwich.

"Thanks, Alfred." He said right before he took a big bite off of the crunchy bread and molten cheese.

"You are most welcome young sir. Any luck with the latest narcotics case?" The butler asked politely.

"Nothing new, just the usual. A really big load is supposed to come later tonight. Sometime around midnight. It doesn't look like they're going to change their plans, although I'm still not sure who they are bringing it to." Robin's lips formed a slight pout even as he continued munching on the sandwich. "It's tough to find any leads with all the crooks in town deciding to stay put and get their beauty sleep."

"Well, I must admit I am not entirely unhappy to hear that. Perhaps those 'crooks' you speak of have finally taken the time to consider and choose their actions more wisely."

"I really don't think that's the case this time, Al. This doesn't really feel right." Dick whipped around to look over at the dark, brooding figure sitting in the other corner of the cave. Alfred had to repress a smile at the sight of bread crumbles covering the young boy's cheeks as he addressed his mentor. "Further instructions, captain?"

Icy slits of white turned to the seated boy. There was no smile or humor in the hard lines of the Bat's glare. But Dick being Dick, his goofy smile didn't waver in the slightest.

"The Docks." The low growl was the only answer Dick got. He was distracted for a second by Alfred handing him a napkin to wipe at his face, and the next thing he knew, he heard the Batmobile roar to life.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." Yellow cape swishing behind him, Robin leaped to the Batmobile with a "Grumpy much?" muttered as a farewell to the unruffled butler. Alfred only raised an eyebrow as he watched after Gotham's two protectors.

"You didn't tell me what you found out at that gala yet." The boy wonder asked as soon as they were speeding through the darkened streets of Gotham. Bruce had come back a little after nine that night, which was very early by Bruce's standards. The only thing he did before heading straight down to the cave was throw the smuggling-rumors report in Dick's direction along with a harsh "Read over those." snapped at him. Down in the cave, Batman had not spoken another word to him or even glanced at him as far as he was concerned. Dick hadn't really gotten the chance to ask him about the gala.

"Anything that might be helpful?" he tried again.

The boy didn't notice, but under the heavy leather of the Bat's gauntlets, knuckles turned white as huge hands tightened their grip on the wheel. But what Robin did notice was the terrifying intensity of his mentor's glare. The white lenses were like flints of ice and the hard line of the Bat's mouth was contorted into a bitter scowl. The other profound thing the young boy noticed was the silence that followed. The Bat was glowering at the road unblinkingly, and showed no signs of acknowledging his ward.

"I'll take that as a no." He shrugged and dismissed his mentor's cold demeanor, although he can't prevent the unhappy pout that came with the small, sharp twinge in his chest. It only lasted for a split second, but the older man must have noticed anyway because he flashed a glance at Dick and growled a brusque: "No, nothing useful."

"Alright." Robin said and smiled warmly at the looming figure next to him. He was more than a little relieved to finally hear Bruce say something, no matter how brief or distant it was. The thought that the Dark Knight of Gotham actually cared about his feelings never failed to make his insides feel giddy and fluttery. The retort Batman barked back at Dick might sound rude or downright hostile to others, but Dick knew that for now that was the most he'll ever get out of Bruce.

The wide grin the boy was sporting was nothing he could repress.

* * *

Batman was scowling through a pair of binoculars while Robin crouched beside him, alert for any impeding danger. The nights were getting progressively colder and to accommodate the rapidly decreasing temperature, his Robin suit had been remodeled to a warmer one. For one, his legs weren't bare anymore. The green tights he now wore were made of insulated leather, and they annoyed him more than he cares to admit. They made his skin feel hot and tight whenever he bends his knees. Besides, all throughout his career as an acrobat his outfits were always legless. But Dick was well aware that being a little uncomfortable was still better than having his legs freeze off in the biting cold.

The chilly wind that blew into their faces smelled of salt and sand. The sea was nothing but a churning black body of water against the smoky skyline. Robin squinted through his domino mask for the first signs of the ship that would bring its illegal cargo to the docks of Gotham. It was too dark for him to make out anything more than the grim flickers of waves on the water's surface.

"They should be here by now." Again, the only answer the boy wonder got was complete silence. Batman was barely more than a liquid shadow flowing smoothly in the blowing wind. The only part identifiable as anything more than a silhouette was the eerie white glow of his lenses.

"They are." The quiet rumble of the Bat could have easily been registered as the wild crashing sounds of the waves against the concrete dock. "Cover the East side."

Before Robin had any time to respond, the dark shadow beside him was gone in the slightest whisper of a breeze. Pushing all his other thoughts to the back of his mind, Robin leapt down from their vantage point and descended to a hidden spot behind some crates. He made sure that all his blind spots could be seen from where Batman was at, and that he had a clear exit path. He went through all the important things Bruce had taught him in the past six months about busting a drug deal. _Wait for the right moment. Don't rush it. Stay hidden until they anchor down and unload the goods. _

By now he could see the dark outline of the slowly approaching ship. It was definitely trying its best not to get caught by the coast-guard. But even these South Americans should know that where the police fail, Batman and Robin will compensate. Right?

Soon enough the ship had anchored itself and a couple of men could be seen quietly hustling and bustling around. They were wary and nervous, but not suspecting. _It's to your great advantage when the men do not suspect your presence. Use the element of surprise to daze them from counterattacking. _

This will be easy.

They waited a couple more minutes until the men began hauling the crates from the ship, then Batman gave the sign.

The only thing the frightened eyes of the men saw was a massive pitch-black silhouette rapidly descending onto them before they were knocked into oblivion. A couple more unlucky ones had to bear full witness to the ghastly glare of the Bat's glowing-white lenses before they, too, fell to the hard concrete ground.

On the East side, the only thing the men saw was a red and green blur of motion before a swift blow would make their legs fail beneath them. _Don't waste your time with one target. Keep moving. _Robin was untouchable with his speed as he weaved through the flanks of men. _Use your speed against them. Keep moving. _Every perfectly executed maneuver preceded another one without a moment's pause. Later, the men would swear that the whirlwind of constant motion must have consisted of at least five people.

_Never let your guard down. _

Robin leaped and twisted mid-air to take out two bewildered men, then spun behind another two before they even registered what was going on. He felt his muscles beneath the skin-tight leather flex and strain as he lurched from one spot to the other. Every part of his acrobatic past contributed to his speed, agility and finesse.

The boy wonder looked more like he was in the middle of a graceful swift-paced dance than he was actually fighting. The persistent smirk on the boy's lips did not make the latter case anymore believable.

The tell-tale metallic click behind him indicated that the rest of the men on the ship had been alerted about the commotion on the docks, and that reinforcement had come. _There will be guns. Don't panic, never panic. Keep moving. _Not that a couple more nerve-wrecked men could ever stop the boy wonder.

Robin heard someone yell "Hold it right there, punk!" before a hurricane of gunshots were aimed at him. _Count shots. Wait for a break when they reload._ Dodging the bullets was easy. The darkness made it all the more harder to hit a perpetually moving target. Judging from the strength of the shots and the time interval between each shot, the guns the men were using were just semi-automatic pistols.

Slipping back into the shadows behind a couple of crates, he used the momentary distraction when the men had to reload their clips.

"Where'd he go!?" One of them said as the gunners realized their target had disappeared. Their eyes darted from side to side frantically in hope to find the boy. _Exploit their backs. Gunners will not expect to be attacked from behind._

"Peek a boo." Was the last thing the men heard before they were knocked out cold for the rest of the night. "Decided to doze off so early? Well, I guess it _is_ way past your bedtime." Robin almost beamed at the sight of the array of unconscious men lying scattered on the ground.

On the other side of the dock, Batman currently had a very frightened man dangling by the front of his collar.

"I- I don't know! God, I swear! I don't know." The man was stammering as his eyes went so wide with fear Robin thought they would never close again. Even from such a distance, he could see that the man's jaw was dislocated and that the swelling on his shoulder made one shoulder twice as big as the other one. And on closer inspection, it seems that the man had every one of his fingers broken. Robin also saw a dark, wet gleam of trickling blood flowing from a deep cut in between his ribs.

"Do you think this is some kind of game?" The snarl made the man wince as Batman's grip tightened. "Are you telling me that you went here to bring about half a ton of cocaine without even knowing who you are dealing with?" The white slivers of the Bat's glare would make any adult man cry for his mother. "Who are you going to meet?"

"T-T-Thurston! Alright, Thurston! We were gonna meet with Thurston. Robert Thurston!"

"He doesn't appear to be anywhere around the docks tonight." Batman's voice was dripping with such scorn and bitterness, even Robin winced a little.

"Well, I-I don't know! Honest!" The poor man was crying by now. He tried his best to speak in between ragged sobs. "He said he was gonna be here at midnight, but he didn't show." Batman's grip tightened again, and it was tight enough to begin suffocating the man of his oxygen. "P-please! He told us he would come pick the goods up and pay the money off. I ain't have no idea why he didn't! Just, please! Let me go. Please!"

Batman roughly dropped the man with a last warning glare. The man just sat there, broken and battered, on the ground staring huge-eyed as the Bat melted back into the shadows.

Robin had already gone back to their earlier vantage point. Soon, the police would come and sort the rest of the mess up. Commissioner Gordon was well aware of the whereabouts of this latest drug shipment, and will probably be able to handle everything on his own from here.

For now, he was worried enough with the way most of the men were obviously hurt more than necessary. To be precise, the men on the West side. The men on Batman's side.

Some of them had their ribs, hip or shoulders crushed, some of them had their jaws hanging limply at odd angles, and some of them were even coughing up gobs of blood. The tortured wails and groans from the men below told Dick that they were in serious pain. This was a little too harsh. Even for the Dark Knight of Gotham.

"Batman, are you alright?" He asked as soon as the cowled figure appeared beside him from the shadows. He must admit that he was a more than just slightly concerned. Not only has Bruce been inscrutably bitter half of the night, but Dick knew better than to ignore the dark glint that has taken residence deep within those midnight-blue eyes.

It wasn't exactly the rarest thing to see his guardian in a foul mood, but usually he would never allow it to affect their nocturnal occupation. Batman has one of the strictest moral codes Dick has ever come across, and what the Dark Knight had just done was too close to breaking it than was convenient.

Robin wasn't exactly worried about the injured thugs lying scattered on the docks. That was probably the last thing on his mind at the moment. Yes, he was worried about the flesh and blood that hid behind the hard lines of the cowl. He was worried about _Bruce. _Not Brucie Wayne, not Batman. Bruce, just Bruce.

"Batman?" Again, no answer. And when it does come, it was all business.

"They were expecting Thurston, one of Thorne's men." No sentiment. No feelings. No nothing. Just a low, dark voice uttered amidst the sea's howling wind. "He was never going to show."

A long pause. Robin knew not to ask how he could be so certain of that fact, definitely not in the mood he was in. But Robin still cocked his head in the Bat's direction to ask for further explanation. They weren't facing each other before, and the gesture was frankly just a lame excuse to steal a glance at the Bat's expression. Half of it may be hidden by the cowl and the other half may have been painstakingly disciplined not to show any kind of emotion whatsoever, but during the six months Dick had lived at the manor he has learned how to look through layer after layer of pretense and steal fleeting glimpses of the true person that lies beneath them. Glimpses of _Bruce._

Granted, nobody could really be sure about what goes on in the Bat's mind. But sometimes, Dick really thinks he could see pride in the way Batman would face him for just a second before telling him they should call it a night. Or sometimes he thinks he could see humor glimmer in Bruce's eyes whenever he puns or cracks a joke.

Dick even thought once that he saw a certain tenderness in the way the older man would gaze at him. Like on that stormy night when Dick had crept into his bed, or the other night when the older man brought him his milk to bed. But most of time, the man was a complete mystery.

And Dick had to admit that it frustrated him. He wanted to know what Bruce was going through. It's only fair that Bruce shouldn't always endure everything on his own. All Dick wanted was just to be there with him. For him.

This time, however, Robin was not granted the luxury of seeing his face. Batman turned his broad back on the younger boy as soon as he turned to look at him. The silence stretched for a little while longer before the Bat finally rasped a low:

"Thurston was afraid of something."

"The same thing that has been scaring the rest of them?"

The silence that followed told Dick that Batman doesn't have any definite answers himself. But something from the caped figure's demeanor as he stands completely still, overlooking the docks littered with crippled men, also told him that the scowl he had been wearing was not meant for the smugglers. It wasn't even meant for Dick. Batman, no_ Bruce_, was angry at himself.

Dick stole another glance at the older man, he didn't even bother to hide the concern shining in his eyes. The only thing he could see was the heavy material of Batman's long cape swirling in the wind as he waited for Gordon to arrive with his men.

After painfully long minutes spend waiting in uneasy silence, the wail of the police's sirens came somewhat as a relief. But Dick didn't really feel any better. For some reason, the weight that had settled on him just got heavier.

* * *

Back at the cave, Batman had gone over the case once more. Dick listened attentively as Bruce briefed him through every possible theory. Rupert Thorne was a man of his word and would never have ditched such a big load, unless something has had him tied up. One thing Dick had learned about Rupert Thorne was that not many people in this world could keep him from getting what he wants.

The only theory they had was that Thorne, and every other big crime boss in Gotham, was terribly afraid of something. And how does this all connect to McGlenn? There was no way of knowing for sure. There were simply too many loose ends, and not enough evidence.

The rest of the night was spent in complete silence.

"Forgive me for interrupting, sirs," Alfred's cool voice sounded from behind them. "but I believe Bruce Wayne is expected to make an appearance at a social meeting at 9 in the morning tomorrow. Or should I say, today, since it is already a couple of hours past midnight."

"Thank you, Alfred." That was the first time Dick had heard Bruce's voice since they came back to the cave. He watched as the older man made his way to the staircase that led to the main building. Dick was hoping for Bruce to say something. Anything at all. He just needed reassurance that everything was alright.

But all Dick got was a terse: "Go to bed Dick." before the other man stormed away and disappeared. Not so much as a goodnight or good bye. This was definitely not the first time Dick was treated so coldly, but it still caused a hollow ache to stir his insides.

In hopes to make himself feel a little better, he tried to recall the way Bruce's big hand felt ruffling his hair. Or the way he felt so safe and warm tangled in Bruce's strong arms. Or the way Bruce's deep blue-eyes softened when he tucked him into bed that night. Then, out of nowhere, the painful question seemed to present itself.

What does he really mean to Bruce?

"Is there anything bothering you, young Master?" Alfred's kind voice distracted him from anymore hurtful questions that he honestly doesn't want to know the answer to.

"No, Al. It's just- It's just that Bruce seems to be so distant today. I don't know what happened, but Bruce has barely spoken or even looked at me all night."

"Well, we both know that Master Bruce is quite too often not pleased with how things are. But I can assure you, young sir, that his vexation is not directed at you."

"I really do hope so." Dick looked down at his green leather boots. The patterns on the leather were suddenly very interesting. "I just- you know. It's worse than usual this time. He has beaten most of the guys to a pulp before. You should've seen him, Alfred." Alfred raised an eyebrow slightly at this, but remained silent.

"It's kind of hard to admit, Al," Dick sighed sadly, his bright blue eyes cast down and unhappy. "but it hurts me more than I ever realized when Bruce is like this."

"Please do not take this too personally, dear boy." Alfred's eyes were kind and his small smile told Dick that the man understood. "The last thing Master Bruce would want is to see you upset or hurt in anyway. I don't suppose I must remind you that Master Bruce only wants what is best for you. In fact, I believe that may even be an understatement. From what I have observed, Master Bruce is more than just a little fond of having you in his company."

That last part kind of came as a shock to Dick. It's actually ridiculous to think that Bruce did _not _like having him around. But it still felt weird to hear it being said out loud. Dick thought that it would always be a little weird to speak about the Bat's feelings so openly. Then again, this was Alfred. Nothing escapes the man. Nothing.

"Really?" Dick smiled a little sheepishly at the old butler and felt his cheeks warm up. He must be blushing. "Well, I like spending time with him too." He added, feeling the heat spread to the tips of his ears.

"But then why had he been avoiding me the entire night?" Dick's smile dropped and was replaced by a pout.

"Who could ever tell what bothers him, young sir? Nonetheless, I will try speaking to him come morning. Don't worry, Master Dick, everything will be alright." Alfred smiled down kindly at the young boy and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "But for the mean time, I believe it would be wiser to allow him a chance to think things through first. Some time for himself may be all he needs."

"Thanks Al, I will." Dick smiled back at the old butler and desperately hoped what he said was true. If time was all Bruce needed, then Dick was prepared to give him all the time he could possibly need. Maybe Dick had just been overreacting. Like Alfred had said, Bruce is often upset about all sorts of things.

_Everything will be better in the morning. _Dick told himself.

_Bruce was probably just frustrated about the McGlenn case._

"Now, why don't you take a hot shower and change into something more appropriate for bed? Tomorrow is another school day."

* * *

**Author's note: **Hey, guys :D What did you think of this chapter? As usual, questions and comments are always very welcome. In fact, I have even decided to make a Bruce/Dick request story for anyone who makes a detailed review about this story of at least 200 words :). It would be very much appreciated. The deadline will be when I post the next chapter, which will still be around a month from now.  
By the way, I found an amazing artist on deviantart I really wanted you guys to see.  
Thanks for reading!


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